


Not Your Fault

by BergaraHoe (flannelfeelings)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blaming yourself, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Gay, Guilt, Happy Ending, Happy Ending I promise!, Hurt/Comfort, It aint right, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej - Freeform, Self Esteem Issues, Sweet brother relationships, Trauma, head injuries, love and fluff, ryan bergara - Freeform, self hatred, shane madej - Freeform, shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/BergaraHoe
Summary: Ryan's worst nightmare has happened; harm has come to his boyfriend on a shoot.Only, this time, Ryan believes it's his fault, and not that of an angry spirit.(AKA The boys get in a car crash and Ryan blames himself)





	Not Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Not affiliated with anyone in it its purely a fictional representation of people I see more as characters
> 
> Enjoy :)

_It’s not your fault._

_It’s not your fault._

_You weren’t the drunk one._

_It was his fault- not yours._

_You couldn’t have done anything_.

Ryan had heard it all. He constantly replayed those words in his head, trying to make some sense of this situation. It never seemed to help though.

He’d grown used to the sterile smell of antiseptic and hospital cleaner over the past few weeks. The feeling of an uncomfortable plastic chair under his ass and shitty cafeteria coffee were his most common companions as of late. The incessant, yet reassuring beep of the heart monitor beside the bed was now more imprinted in his mind that most of his favorite songs.

And the sight of Shane, supine in bed with a tube in his nose, that was now a permanent memory.

The doctors said it could last days, weeks, months...maybe even forever if he didn’t come around. A medically induced coma due to the swelling on his brain from the trauma of the accident.

Mark and Sherri Madej had rushed to the airport upon hearing about their son’s hospitalization. When they reached the lobby, with Ryan agonizingly waiting for an update, he hadn’t been sure of the best way to tell your boyfriend’s parents that you’ve basically killed him.

It was after a shoot. Late at night on a backstreet in upstate California. Thank God they were close to home. About a half a mile from Shane’s apartment, the two were hit by a drunk driver running a red light.

Ryan was driving. He was spared the brunt of the impact, escaping cleanly with only a few cuts and bruises. Shane though…

There was never going to be a way to unsee the truck smashing into the passenger side of the car. The shrieking grind of metal on metal, the shattering of windows, the awful _crack_ of Shane’s skull splitting open as it collided with the dashboard.

Ryan shuddered, brought back to reality by the horrific memory of the accident. That was two weeks ago. He glanced sideways, eyes combing over Shane’s lifeless, black and blue face. There were still stitches in his forehead from the injury, and his blackened eyes were starkly prominent against his pale skin. Ryan too, still bore facial injuries and heavy bruising from the accident.

But Ryan was walking around. And he hadn’t left this bedside in two weeks.

He’d made the rare trip every few days to his apartment to shower, or grab some decent coffee. But that was it, and he never spent more than twenty minutes away from this bedside.

“For now, there’s no change.” The doctor had said yesterday when he asked, “But we’ll have to wait and see. We’ll take him out sometime this week and make sure he’s breathing on his own.”

Ryan and Shane had known each other for six years. Had been dating for half that. These past few weeks were the longest Ryan had gone in six years without hearing Shane’s voice...his laugh...without getting a response when he spoke to him.

God, what Ryan wouldn’t give to hear the pealing bells of his laugh, just one more fucking time.

He should’ve prevented this. He should’ve done something. He was exhausted from a long shoot, he was running on energy drinks and junk food; he wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Maybe if he’d been a little more alert...maybe he could’ve done something to avoid being hit.

Despite what the police, the hospital, and his friends and family argued, Ryan knew he was at fault. _He_ was fucking driving, and now Shane was in a coma.

Ryan looked up as a noise caught his attention. It was his little brother, Jake. He entered the room with a _Chipotle_ bag in one hand and a mug of hot coffee in the other. He smiled warmly at Ryan, who probably looked like a mess. It had been a day or two since his last shower, and he hadn’t slept properly in two weeks.

“Brought you some sulking fuel.” Jake offered lightly.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Ryan said, gratefully. He got to his feet, stumbling a little as a bought of dizziness overcame him. Jake reached an arm out to steady him, expression concerned.

“Ryan…” the younger Bergara ran his fingers over Ryan’s hollowed cheeks, “You look like total shit, man. The bags under your eyes have bags. You smell like ass. Have you slept at all?”

Ryan took the bag and sat back down, gulping the hot coffee with vigor, “No.”

Jake sat beside him in the pairing plastic chair, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder worriedly, “Ryan it’s not your f-”

“Stop.” Ryan cut him off, eyes closing, “Please. _Stop_.”

“No.” Jake shook his head, “Jesus Ryan, you need some rest. You need to go home, take a fuckin’ shower, take a nap. Why are you torturing yourself by his bedside when nothing’s gonna happen without the doctors doing it?”

“Because it’s my fucking _faul_ t!” Ryan snapped, slamming the coffee down on the end table so hard that some of the hot liquid splashed his hand, _“I’m_ the reason this happened!” he looked over at Shane, and his lip trembled, “I-I- I _can’t_ leave him. I can’t let him down more than I already have.”

“You haven’t let anyone down Ryan.” Jake’s voice was low, almost pitiful to see his big brother so destroyed, “ _You_ were hit too, you know. There was nothing you could’ve done, because he hurt you both. You’re covered in cuts and bruises, and clearly not dealing with any of this well. Who’s gonna take care of you, Ryan?”

“I’m not the one in a fucking coma.” Ryan hissed.

“What would you have done?” Jake demanded, “What the fuck could you have done differently, to prevent this? Huh? Predicted the future? Stayed off the roads? Well, that’s not happening. Turned the car at the last second? Great, he still would’ve hit you. This guy was shitfaced, and ran a red light, and there was absolutely nothing you could’ve done to change this. So stop fuckin’ punishing yourself when you’re a victim too.”

Ryan stared at his dirty sneakers. He knew, deep down, somewhere in the more logical part of his brain, that his brother was probably right. Sure, he couldn’t predict the future. Sure, there wasn’t anything he could do to see this coming. But, he was the one driving, and he somehow came out unscathed.

“How is that fair?” Ryan whispered aloud, “That he’s…” his eyes again combed over his comatose boyfriend, grimacing, “he could die. And I get off with a couple bruises?”

“Because sometimes bad shit happens man.” Jake replied, “Tell me, if it was Shane driving, and this had happened in reverse. Would you blame him?”

“Of course not-”

“Exactly. So stop vilifying yourself. I know you need someone to blame, someone to direct your hurt and anger at, do it at the actual person who did this. You can testify against him at his trial. You can do everything in your fucking power to get him convicted and put away for this.” Jake reached down and took Ryan’s hand, squeezing it softly, “but you _can’t_ take this out on my brother. He’s just a guy who got hurt.”

Ryan swallowed hard; his throat burning with unshed tears. He wanted nothing more than to break down and let out all of his anger and frustration in a pathetic episode of sobs. He wasn’t sure how to do that though; he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I-I don’t know how to get through this without blaming myself.” he whispered in a low voice, “If I just act like it’s all okay, how am I supposed to survive this?”

“You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.” Jake assured him softly, “Just stop blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault. Be here for him, help him recover, and move on from this together. But to do that, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

Ryan nodded slowly, “You’re right.”

“Usually.” Jake shot him a small, half-smile, “Now...about your odor.”

Ryan sniffed his own armpit through his well-worn gray hoodie, grimacing, “I’m not pleasant.”

“You really want him to wake up and smell you like this?” Jake chuckled, “if you owe him anything, it’s a freshly scented reunion.”

“I should shower.” Ryan agreed.

“Go.” Jake encouraged, “I’ll stay here with him. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Thank you Jake.” Ryan’s voice was breathless with unsaid gratitude.

Jake nodded, and the expression on his face said he understood how immensely appreciative Ryan was.

His reply did not reflect that as he hit back, “Go shower, swamp-ass.” 

* * *

After about an hour, Ryan returned to the hospital room. He was freshly showered, dressed in a pair of comfortable joggers and a clean t-shirt. His messy curls were combed through for the first time in two weeks, and he’d gotten some fruit into his system instead of snacking on vending machine candy bars.

When he arrived back to Shane’s room, he noticed that Shane’s parents were there, as well as his doctor. He quickly burst in, panicked.

“What’s going on?” Ryan asked, looking directly to Jake.

“Was just about to call you,” Jake told him.

“We’re going to pull him out,” the doctor explained, “See if he can breathe on his own.”

Ryan swallowed hard, “And...if not?”

Sherri buried her face in her husband’s chest, sobs stifled by his sweater, “Then we’ll deal with it, son.” Mark said solemnly.

Jake stepped out silently, giving Ryan a reassuring shoulder pat as he did so. The four of them crowded around Shane’s bed, as the doctor approached his IV with a needle full of an unfamiliar liquid.

“Now…” the doctor cautioned, “if he comes out of this, he’s going to be very disoriented. It’s possible he’ll have some memory loss, maybe even some loss of speech. What he needs is your full support.”

The Madejs and Ryan all nodded in understanding. The doctor injected the IV fluid with the substance and slowly removed his feeding tube. Then, he stepped back to wait.

After a moment, Shane stirred and the three of them let out a collective sigh of relief. He could breathe on his own. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking as if he’d just woken up from a long nap. The amber-flecked irises quickly narrowed against the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital room. The doctor proclaimed he’d return in a moment, and ushered out quickly.

“Mom?” his voice was raspy and groggy with disuse.

“I’m here baby!” Sherri rushed to his side and took his hand, kissing each of his knuckles fervently, “I’m right here.”

Shane looked over at his dad, and smiled warmly, “Hey Pop.”

Mark crossed over to stand beside his wife, and rested his hand softly on Shane’s arm, “Hey kiddo.”

Then, Shane turned his head, and his eyes settled on Ryan. Ryan shifted on his feet uncomfortably; he lived with Shane, had been with him romantically for three years and best friends with him for six, yet right now...he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Who are you?” Shane asked, confusion enveloping his face.

Ryan’s brows arched up in pained disbelief, and his jaw fell slack, “I-”

“Oh c’mon Ghost Boy, you _really_ fell for that one?”

Realization hit Ryan as he let out his breath, shoulders sagging, “You asshole!”

Shane laughed weakly, beckoning Ryan forward. Ryan moved up to stand beside him, taking his other hand and letting the sound of his laugh fill his ears.

“It’s so good to hear you laugh.” Ryan murmured.

“It’s good to laugh.” Shane replied agreeably. Then, he turned to his parents, “Hey guys...could I have a minute alone with Ryan?”

They both smiled at him and left quickly. Shane patted the space beside him on the bed, and Ryan sat down carefully, mindful of the mirage of tubes and wires. Shane pulled him in close, so Ryan’s face was resting in the crook of his neck.

“Tell me what happened, please.” Shane murmured, “And no editorializing. I sent my parents out so I could get the whole story, no fluffing for my benefit.”

“A drunk driver hit us.” Ryan responded, “T-boned us at a red light on our way back from the shoot. You hit your head.”

Shane nodded, “And…”

“There was...some swelling in your brain.” Ryan’s voice was a whisper now, “They put you in a medically induced coma, to relieve the stress.”

Shane looked at him, cocking an eyebrow up curiously.

Ryan continued, “That was two weeks ago.”

Shane’s breath came out in a whoosh, “Oh. Shit.”

“I’m sorry Shane.”

The taller of the two frowned, shaking his head, “Why are you sorry?”

“I was driving us, and-”

“No.” Shane cut him off sternly, eyes serious, “ _No_ Ryan. Absolutely not with this guilt complex self deprecating thing. Have you seen your face? You look like you pissed off a UFC fighter. _We_ were hit by a drunk driver. That’s it.”

Ryan found himself smiling. Shane always knew just what to say to calm his nerves.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Ryan told him sincerely.

Shane leaned in and gently kissed the bruising on Ryan’s cheek, just under his eye, “Me too. I’m glad we’re both alive. Have you been taking care of yourself Ryan? You look exhausted.”

“Let’s not worry about me Shane. You just woke up from a coma.”

Shane grinned, “Yeah. _I’ve_ certainly had enough sleep. As for you…”

Ryan sighed, nestling in a little more comfortably into Shane’s side, inhaling the familiar smell of his skin. He was sweaty and probably not as clean as he’d be if he’d been bathing himself, but Ryan didn’t care. It felt so nice to be held by him again. He felt his eyelids becoming heavy as he listened to the familiar beat of Shane’s heart beneath his hospital gown.

“Been busy looking after your vegetable ass…” Ryan breathed out quietly.

Shane’s chest rattled with a laugh as he stroked his hand along Ryan’s arm, “Why don’t you close your eyes baby?”

Ryan nodded, only half-aware of what he was agreeing to as a dark cloud of exhaustion swept over him. He curled up beside his large boyfriend, breathing slowly becoming more steady and in tune to Shane’s low, thrumming heartbeat.

“I love you Ry.” he heard a quiet voice tell him.

“M’love too…” Ryan mumbled back incoherently, and heard a gentle laugh.

Finally, in time with the soft thrum of his boyfriend’s calm breathing, safe and secure in his warm embrace, Ryan fell peacefully to sleep.


End file.
